


these small hours (these little wonders)

by aprincessofdaxam



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/M, Past Kara Danvers/Mon-El
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 22:13:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14819858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aprincessofdaxam/pseuds/aprincessofdaxam
Summary: It's the night before the wedding, and Imra's not the only one who can't sleep.





	these small hours (these little wonders)

Imra isn't surprised when she jolts awake and there is faint light coming under the door. It's still far too early to even consider preparing the cruiser for the flight back to Titan, but she isn't the only one at the Legion base who doesn't sleep through the night.  
  
Three years, and Mon-El still struggles with this time. She sees it in his furrowed brow as he stares out the window opposite, looking at the gleaming buildings in the darkness, knowing that sometimes every little thing reminds him of the life he'd left behind. He has gotten better - found a footing, established the Legion, found a life here. But tonight - or early this morning, rather - knowing what this day is, she doesn't need to be in his space to feel the sadness and frustration rolling off of him in waves.  
  
He doesn't look surprised when she moves into his sightline, pouring herself a glass of water before joining him at the table in the center of the room in silence that's companionable enough. He's gotten used to their night chats. Even with the weights of all these worlds on all of them, the two of them perhaps have more losses - more they're trying to honor - than some of the others in the Legion. When they're too sad to sleep, or too afraid of what they'll see in their dreams - or nightmares - to sleep - they sit here. They pass the time. She teaches him Saturnian, teaches him the myths of her people. He tells her what he learned of Old Earth history, teaches her his favorite songs from his time there.  
  
But tonight, neither one of them feels like singing.  
  
Out of the corner of her eye, she watches him turn something over and over inside his clenched palm, and doesn't have to see to know what it is. She knows he'll wear it against his heart today, and every day for the rest of his life. Only half meaning to, she slides her hand into the pocket of her tunic, touching the soft tangle of threads and beads she carries there. Preya had made the bracelet in childhood, had worn it until she'd outgrown it, had passed it down to her sister. Imra is older now than her older sister will ever be. And with that comes responsibility.  
  
Earth will fall fast to the looming threat if their desperate plan to cement an alliance doesn't work. It had come to them as Imra was thinking of what Preya would do, as Mon-El was thinking of what Kara would do. It had come from thinking of Lena Luthor getting dragged into his mother's crazy scheme, and Imra realizing what her father might respect, take as a sign of peace, prompting him use his influence to stop the madness.  
  
It's him who finally breaks the silence. "I'm sorry."  
  
She's shaking her head before he's even finished the word. "You have nothing to be sorry for. If anything, I'm the one who's sorry. That we didn't find another way."  
  
There was no denying how uncomfortable she felt about the whole situation. A political marriage - thar wasn't how she had expected her life to go once she had chosen to live on Earth. For all of its chaos, all they are fighting to put to rights, the freedom she feels there, the freedom she knows its people have, is intoxicating. Rather than having her life chosen for her, fitting into a prescribed vocation, she had found a way to forge her own path - even if it's considered unladylike by the elders. Rather than having her spouse chosen for her, she had hoped to someday find and choose someone she loved with her whole heart. But she was forced to make up a new plan, because deep down, she knew there was only one right way.  
  
"You know that Daxam wasn't like Earth. I thought when I made a home on Earth, that maybe I'd get to choose," he says, as though he's the one reading her mind. "I _chose_ ," he mutters. "And now ... " He shakes his head, almost in disappointment - at himself? "She'd have found another way. Even with fifth-dimensional imps." A sad smile pulls at his mouth. She wonders what it was like when he was happy all the time. He's got a wit that goes along with his sharp mind, but the longer he's been here, the more she sees glimpses of his mischievous nature, and she wonders.  
  
"I'm so sorry we couldn't find a way to send you home," she says softly. Not for the first time. They'd tried, for years. It was only recently that he had resolutely, painfully, stopped mentioning it - first as it became apparent that that door was closed, and later, as they were shoved through another door.  
  
"I am home, though," he says. "Even if this isn't .... I still chose Earth a long time ago. Even when I had the chance to leave it. And even in this time, I'll protect it."  
  
The words he'd said so many times in the early days of the Legion hang in the air between them, even without him saying them aloud this time - it's what she would do.  
  
"She'd be proud."  
  
"Of this?" he counters quickly. Maybe she should have expected the flash of anger in his eyes at her words that slipped out without her really thinking - it's so easy for frustration to become anger. She knows.  
  
"You're protecting Earth." She uses his own words. "You're giving up everything. To help my people ... your people ... our people, here. She chose here, too. She'd be proud."    
  
They're quiet for a minute, as they both think about the woman who inspires them, even though she's only a distant memory in this century.  
  
"You too," he finally says. "She'd be proud of you, too."  
  
"In case it's not clear," she says softly, nodding at his closed hand, "I respect her. I would never try to take her place. I know you won't ever love me like that."  
  
"Stop. It's - "  
  
He falters as he interrupts her, and then just gives up. He places his other hand on the table, palm up, in invitation, and she knows he wants her to hear - really hear - what he has to say. She smiles at the gesture.  
  
Over the years of their friendship and many late-night talks, they've learned how different their cultures were. Daxam was a physical place - it wasn't just about sex, but about community, about connection. But physical contact enhances a Saturnian's abilities - and growing up, as they learn to master their minds, they also learn to be more reserved, lest they spin out of control. Despite it being years - or centuries, depending on your point of view - since Daxam's fall, she knows he is still a tacitile person. She wasn't raised like that. Brainy certainly wasn't. She watches him struggle with it, until one day, when he's particularly cranky and snapping at others without reason like an addict denied a fix, she'd snapped back that perhaps he'd be more pleasant to deal with if he didn't completely neglect self-care. He'd countered that his friends' own boundaries were equally important. She had rolled her eyes - idiot, stubborn man - and wrapped him in the hug he'd been needing for a year, and felt his touch-starved mind reeling, nearly bringing them both to their knees.  
  
Over time, they've learned what works. He always asks, always invites, instead of touching her unawares and startling her mind. And they share, that way. She can't read his mind, exactly, but her empathy can feel his. When he tells her about Bon Jovi, there's only a whisper of the melody in her mind, she can't read the words stored in his mind like a book, but but can feel the way the music made him feel, can feel how grateful he was that Alex was sharing something with him and finding a place for him in her family.  
  
So now she laces her fingers with his and feels his mind like a tickle at the back of her own.  
  
"But here's the thing - I do love you. Back in the 21st century, I always used to hear people say they were happy to marry their best friend. That was what they put all over social media." She looks askance at his unfamiliar phrase, and he grimaces, shrugging his other shoulder to indicate that it's not important, before his face softens again. Joined as they are, she can feel his sincerity. "You are my best friend. I would be lost without you. And I love you for all you've done for me, for this planet."  
  
The affection coming off him in waves makes her blink before she answers. "What I've done for you? Mon-El, you gave me a purpose. You ... " She can't get the words out, and wonders if he knows she's remembering those days he quietly sat at Preya's bedside with her, or hovered outside the room. "You're saving my people. That's more than I could ever ask from a partner."  
  
"I promise to always be your partner. To never dishonor you. To protect your people as my own."  
  
"That sounds suspiciously like a vow," she whispers.  
  
While he rolls his eyes at the irony, the smile he gives her is genuine. "I always did run headlong into things."  
  
"What kind of partner would I be to leave you on your own, then?" She chooses her words. "I'm very fond of you, Mon-El. And I vow that whatever else we are, by our own choice or not, that I always choose to be your friend."  
  
She looks into the eyes of this kind, honorable man, who had held her sister's hand while she was sick, who held her in his arms when she sobbed afterward, hoping he can read the sincerity and the affection in her eyes, mirroring what she can feel in her own mind. Maybe he does feel it, or maybe he just wants the comfort, because his hand holds hers a little tighter.  
  
And that's how the others find them, perhaps some hours later, as the sun is coming up and it's time to get on with their lives. 

**Author's Note:**

> *I ship both Karamel and Saturnvalor. If that makes no sense to you, don't worry, I don't make sense to me, either.  
> *Title from 'Little Wonders,' by Rob Thomas, which is one of my favorite songs for Saturnvalor. Shameless plug - I put a lot of fanmixes and playlists on Tumblr.  
> *I've probably taken a few liberties with Imra's powers. So if you think 'oh, that sounds wrong,' you're probably not crazy. And the stuff about Saturnian culture and Daxamite culture is purely headcanon.  
> *Headcanon is also that Alex introduced Mon-El to Bon Jovi. Fight me.  
> *I'm terrible with dialogue, and this is my first attempt at writing Imra. Constructive criticism welcomed.


End file.
